f the murderer's
blow had not been arrested in the act by Mademoiselle Stangerson's
revolver. Wounded in the hand, he dropped the mutton-bone and fled.
Unfortunately, the blow had been already given, and Mademoiselle was
stunned after having been nearly strangled. If she had succeeded
in wounding the man with the first shot of the revolver, she would,
doubtless, have escaped the blow with the bone. But she had certainly
employed her revolver too late; the first shot deviated and lodged in
the ceiling; it was the second only that took effect."

Having said this, Monsieur Darzac knocked at the door of the pavilion. I
must confess to feeling a strong impatience to reach the spot where the
crime had been committed. It was some time before the door was opened by
a man whom I at once recognised as Daddy Jacques.

He appeared to be well over sixty years of age. He had a long white
beard and white hair, on which he wore a flat Basque cap. He was dressed
in a complete suit of chestnut-coloured velveteen, worn at the sides;
sabots were on his feet. He had rather a waspish-looking face, the
expression of which lightened, however, as soon as he saw Monsieur
Darzac.

"Friends," said our guide. "Nobody in the pavilion, Daddy Jacques?"

"I ought not to allow anybody to enter, Monsieur Robert, but of course
the order does not apply to you. These gentlemen of justice have seen
everything there is to be seen, and made enough drawings, and drawn up
enough reports--"

"Excuse me, Monsieur Jacques, one question before anything else," said
Rouletabille.

"What is it, young man? If I can answer it--"

"Did your mistress wear her hair in bands, that evening? You know what I
mean--over her forehead?"

"No, young man. My mistress never wore her hair in the way you suggest,
neither on that day nor on any other. She had her hair drawn up, as
usual, so that her beautiful forehead could be seen, pure as that of an
unborn child!"

Rouletabille grunted and set to work examining the door, finding that it
fastened itself automatically. He satisfied himself that it could never
remain open and needed a key to open it. Then we entered the vestibule,
a small, well-lit room paved with square red tiles.

"Ah! This is the window by which the murderer escaped!" said
Rouletabille.

"So they keep on saying, monsieur, so they keep on saying! But if he had
gone off that way, we should have been sure to have seen him. We are not
blind, neither Monsieu